


Embraced

by Dellessa



Series: Night Cycle Verse [10]
Category: Transformers Animated (2007), Transformers Generation One
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Bloodplay, M/M, Mech Preg, Sticky Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-03
Updated: 2013-01-03
Packaged: 2017-11-23 11:23:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/621591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dellessa/pseuds/Dellessa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prowl had warned them all to be careful. There had been mechawolf sightings all through the city. Bluestreak could not imagine why the creatures would do them harm, not really. They lived on the edges of society, just as the vampires did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Embraced

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thepheonixqueen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepheonixqueen/gifts).



**Title:** Embraced  
 **Verse:** G1ish with Elements of Animated. Animated style Shockwave.  
 **Series:** Night Cycle Verse  
 **Rating:** M  
 **Warnings/Content:** Non-con. Mech-preg. Vampires. Violence. Character Death.  
 **Pairings/Characters:** Jazz/Thundercracker, Jazz/Prowl/Thundercracker, Bluestreak/Prowl, Barricade/Meister.  
 **Notes:** Not mine!!!  
 **Words:** 9481  
  
Jazz wiggled, trying to get comfortable on the berth and failed. Had he known that carrying was such a miserable endeavour he would have taken back everything he had asked of Prowl and begged the old vampire to turn him right then. It was uncomfortable at best. Knock Out had rearranged his insides, making more room for the gestation tanks. Still, as his nanites built the little framed inside it still seemed to press against everything painfully, making any exertion unpleasant towards the end.  
  
It was hard not to glare at Thundercracker. He was, after all, part of the cause of Jazz’s current misery. He did try though. The black and white mech would give him that. The other minibot curled against him, rubbing his chestplates, and pulling the cooling blanket up around him. “I hate this,” Jazz moaned, settling back with a huff.  
  
Thundercracker made soothing noises, hoping that Jazz would settle down. “Prowl said he would be out late, he is meeting with an emissary from Iacon, or something. I didn’t pry.”     
  
“Probably best,” Jazz wiggled about until he was finally comfortable. Sometimes he did not know what to do with himself. So many things had changed. Prowl provided them with a stability they had never known before. They were safe, they had family. It was as if their world had tumbled over and finally settled to where it should always have been.  
  
“He took Barricade with him, and my brothers. I’m sure he will come back to us safe,” Thundercracker said as he settled against the other mini, and pressed his helm to Jazz’s abdomen plating, and listened to the sparkling move inside. He could not help but be excited to the sparkling’s upcoming extraction. It was a flier, but he would have been just as happy had it been a grounder, despite what his brothers said.    
  
It was such an adjustment having them near. It settled his spark, but caused all kinds of other problems. They had not exactly approved of his bonding with Jazz, and had all but demanded that he break that bond. They had only given up when they discovered his resolve on the matter, and that given the choice it would be Jazz every time.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

  
Prowl had warned them all to be careful. There had been mechawolf sightings all through the city. Bluestreak could not imagine why the creatures would do them harm, not really. They lived on the edges of society, just as the vampires did.  
  
“Blue, where do you think you are going?” Barricade asked, stopping him at the door.  
  
“Oh, Uncle Barricade---I was---ah--I was going out. There was a few things I wanted from the market before they closed. I promised Jazz some energon treats. You know how tetchy he has been. Poor Thundercracker. I can’t even imagine. I wonder if my creators were like that. I don’t remember them very well, do you?” Bluestreak said, speaking faster the more excited he became.  
  
Barricade raised a browplate. “I do, remember them. Perhaps Prowl would let you meet them if you asked.”    
  
“He doesn’t like it when I ask about them,” Bluestreak said, optics darting, and finally settled on the floor. Resentment threatened to overwhelm him for a moment. He was, after all, the price his creators had paid for living in luxury on the surface. Just one little sacrifice, and he doubted they missed him any. He had always been meant to go to Prowl, whether he would be turned or not. Most were not.  
  
He could almost feel a kinship with the mechawolves in this, they were both unwanted.  
  
“I’m sure he does not,” Barricade agreed. “He never has liked to share what he deems to be his. Sad but true.”  
  
“Right,” Bluestreak’s optics alighted on the floor. “I should get going. They close soon,” he said, deftly stepping around Barricade. “I’d hate to disappoint Jazz,” he smiled, but it never quite reached his optics.  
  
Instead he hurried through the street, curious if he would actually see one of the creatures as much as he truly was intent on going to the market. The street lights were dim, barely illuminating the path, generally this would not have deterred the Praxian, but he felt more ill at ease the closer to the market he went.  
  
He knew he was being followed, the ped falls echoed behind him as he picked up his pace, sensors reeling. His spark whirled faster in his chest, and he tried not to panic, one small part of his processor hoped that it was just Barricade checking up on him. He looked back, optics widening as he caught a glimpse of red optics, so many red optics. He whimpered, running, but did not get far. Something tackled him, ripping at his doorwings. His scream echoed through the street, but no help came.  
  
“Such a pretty little Praxian,” a voice purred behind him, pinning him to the ground, wrenching at one of his wings. “A marked little whore,” the mech chuckled, tracing a digit across Prowl’s mark, where it grazed Bluestreak’s doorwings. The digit traced across the swirling design.  
  
“Please, stop. Prowl will---”  
  
Bluestreak screamed as the mech ripped into his doorwing, ripping away the metal and the seal with it. The mech threw it to the ground, mech-blood splattering across the ground.  
  
The Praxian let out a whimper, and then shrieked loudly. The shriek cut short as the mech hit Bluestreak upside the helm, knocking him offline.  
  
The mech sneered. “Grab him, Grinder.”

 

OoOoOoOoOo

  
“Have you seen Bluestreak?” Thundercracker asked, “He said he would make Jazz some energon treats, but that was nearly two joors ago.”  
  
Barricade frowned down at the minibot, “No, I have not seen him since...he left.” Golden optics narrowed sharply. “He never returned?”    
  
“No...I don’t think so,” Thundercracker said, frowning. “It’s not like him to just make promises and not follow through. Especially for Jazz.”  
  
“They have grown close,” Barricade agreed, still frowning. “I’ll send somebot out to go look for him. Perhaps he just got distracted. Won’t be the first time that’s happened, or the last I’m sure.”  
  
“I hope so. I’d hate for anything to happen to him,” Thundercracker said, wringing his hands together.  
  
Barricade only nodded, Prowl would be far from pleased if anything happened to his favourite.  
  
“I can imagine,” Thundercracker said, thinking that the Praxian would move Cybertron to save his favoured if it came down to it. “Just let me know if you find out anything.”  
  
Barricade watched the little Seeker leave, not letting on how worried he was as he went to dispatch some of his agents to go search for Bluestreak. He vented softly as he walked towards his brother’s rooms. This was not the kind of news he wanted to tell Prowl, but putting it off would hardly make things any better. For all that the white Praxian usually exhibited an outward calm, a coldness, he had the worst of tempers. One that could simmer for millennium. It was one that Barricade tried his best never to ignite. He had seen what happened to those that did, and in some things he knew well enough that even being family would not save him.  
  
He entered Prowl’s domain with caution, finally finding his lord and brother strepping of of the washrack, still dripping. Prowl glared, gold optics narring, which never boded well for anyone. “Something is wrong, I take it?” he asked, stepping under the dryer.  
  
Barricade watched him for a moment, admiring. His brother was all elegant lines. Sharp. Precise. “Unfortunately. Yes. Bluestreak might be missing. I sent out a party to look for him, but it’s been over two joors, closer to three. It is not like him to not check in.”  
  
Prowl’s optics flashed red. “No, it is not like him at all. Send me word on your findings.”  
  
“I will,” Barricade promised, still watching his brother, and then turned to leave as the silence stretched in a clear dismissal.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

  
Barricade met with his lieutenants, not liking the look on either Streetwise’s or Nightbeat’s faceplates. “Report,” he barked, looking hard at his two fledglings. They had been with him since they were mechlets, hand picked from his own descendants. They both had keen minds, which he valued above everything else. He was not like Prowl though, neither had ever graced his berth. The thought left him faintly unsettled despite his brother’s proclivities.  
  
“Sire, we were unable to locate Bluestreak,” Streetwise said, his normal jovialness staid. “We found signs of a struggle, sir. And...” he reached into his subspace, and pulled out a jagged piece of metal. “This. Laserbeak found it in an alley not far off the path that Bluestreak normally takes. There was a lot of mech-blood...but not enough that it was apparent that he was offlined. He may still live.”  
  
Barricade took it, venting heavily. “Bluestreak’s mark,” He nodded, tracing a digit across the jagged edges. “Torn by claws. Most likely the Fenrir.”    
  
“Mechawolves? You think so?”  Nightbeat spoke up. “Do you want me to send out a force to round those of the city up.”  
  
“It might be best. Prowl’s reaction is not going to be pleasant,” Barricade said, already considering how he was going to tell his brother. “Pray his spark is still beating, or there is going to be the very pit to pay.”  
  
Streetwise only nodded, showing no emotion to that, “We figured, sir. The Master cares for him greatly. No one could blame him for such a reaction.”  
  
“No one at all,” Barricade agreed, looking away.  
  
The door slid shut behind them as they left leaving Barricade shivering. To say that he was dreading speaking to his brother about this was the greatest of understatements. Stalling would only make it worse. he knew that much from experience.  
  
It was tempting to go to Meister, to stall, but he stiffened him spinal strut and forced himself to seek out his brother. He needed to know.  
  
He steeled himself, leaving his rooms and moving far into the citadel.  
  
Prowl was where he knew he would be in the wardroom, alone. Barricade had almost prayed that he would be wrong and the vampire would be in the company of the two minibots. It might have held his temper. No such luck. Barricade cringed.  
  
“What news do you have, Brother?”  
  
Barricade drew the ragged piece of metal from his subspace. “The Fenrir have taken him. I am sorry.”  
  
Prowl’s optics flashed red, Barricade’s only warning before his brother fell on him with rending claws. Barricade curled about himself, not fighting back. He had long ago discovered that fighting back only inflamed his brother’s bloodlust. It was the impetus that could push things from bad to worse. It was over fast, Prowl moved away, talons dripping with Barricade’s lifeblood.  
  
Barricade catalogue his injuries silently to himself. One doorwing hung lip on it’s hinges. His chevron missing one point. It was the most painful wound, in truth. Gouges in his armour plating. Nothing that could not be fixed. Knock Out was going to pitch a fit. He knew that from long experience.  
  
He stood up. Wobbling on his peds for a moment. “I have already sent other’s out to raid the Fenrir’s homes. We will find him.”  
  
Prowl growled in response. “Have Smokescreen help. He can do something for once. I’m sure one of his contacts can find more information. And...send a raid to the slave market. I know we were going to hold off, but we---I cannot afford for him to be sent out of the city.”  
  
Barricade nodded, “As you wish.” It had been a battle. As soon as they raided one such market it always seemed as though another would pop up. It was as bad of a problem as the illegal gladiatorial rings.  
  
Barricade bowed deeply, despite his injuries and walked out as best as he could.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

  
Bluestreak curled in on himself. He hurt. His doorwing felt as though it was on fire. He didn’t dare reach back to touch it, half afraid of what he would find. The room he had been thrown in was dark, windowless. His chronometer had been broken in the struggle, always giving him an error when his checked his HUD.  
  
He startled when the door was opened, and a large mech came stomping in, grabbing him before he could scramble away.  
  
The mech jerked him down a long dark hall, his hand tight enough on Bluestreak’s armor that it left hand shaped dents.  
  
“Where are you taking me?” He whimpered, trying to pull away. The mech jerked at him, pulling him along, his pace nearly too fast for Bluestreak to keep up with. Finally he was pushed through another doorway. The new room was obviously a medbay. Bluestreak looked around, his spark spinning faster with terror. “Please, tell me what’s going on.”    
  
“Hey, Doc, here’s that...special one. I know Riptide told you I was bringing him over. Already got a buyer,” the mech leered down at Bluestreak, and pulled a datapad out of his subspace, “Here are the specs on the order.”    
  
Bluestreak keened at those words, struggling in earnest to get away. “No, nooo, you can’t do this.” He reached for the energon blade that was hidden in a thigh sheath, and screamed louder when he realized it was gone.  
  
“Oh, hold him still,” the medic made a tutting noise as he approached, syringe in hand.  
  
“No,” Bluestreak screamed, thrashing until the bigger bot grabbed him in a hug, pinning his arms tight.  
  
The medic pushed the needle into a main line, flushing whatever drug he had grabbed through Bluestreak’s system. The world swam, and Bluestreak went limp in the larger bot’s arms, head lolling to the side.  
  
“Just put him on the berth, I have a lot of work to do,” the medic huffed.  
  
The large bot laughed loudly. “I’ll leave you to it then. Comm me when you are done.”  
  
Bluestreak’s head rolled to the side, his mind active even when his body would not mind any commands he sent it. He whimpered, tears trickling from his optics as the medic slowly began to strip him of armour until he was stripped to his protoform. The medic scanned him, hmming. “No seals. I suppose it is just as well that the buyer did not insist on that. We would have had to grab a different bot.”  
  
Bluestreak watched the mech carry the new armour in and place it on a table before he started to place it on Bluestreak. It was thin. As thin as the armour that Thundercracker, Jazz, and Meister has on when they were brought into the citadel, and far more intricate. It was the armour of a high-priced pleasurebot.  
  
“Please, no,” he whimpered, crying harder as each piece was fitted on.  
  
“Such a lovely thing,” the medic said, looking over at his work. “And so much to do,” the medic murmured, ghosting a hand down Bluestreak’s chassis, stopping over his interface panel. The medic hummed as he removed the panel, leaving Bluestreak bare to the medic’s leering optics. He pressed his fingers into the malleable metal folds. “If only I had more time. I’d sample the wares,” he made a little huffing noise, moving to a closet, Bluestreak lost sight of him until he the mech came back with two items in hand that left Bluestreak keening all over again. The medic put the spike cap in place, riveting it into place.  It was silver with a crest in the middle he did not recognize. A clear sign of ownership.  
  
“I wouldn’t try to remove either, you won’t be able to- they are locked to your new owner. It would take a pretty good hacker to even think about getting past it,” the medic murmured, leering as he picked up the giant fake spike. A stretcher, Prowl was fond of them, so Bluestreak recognized it easily enough. He had never had one that big put in him though. His insides clenched at the thought.  
  
The medic grabbed a tube from the table, smearing the spike with lubricant and one hand. He eased a digit inside the tight, dry passage, massaging the walls for a few kliks before they gradually began to loosen.  
  
Bluestreak offlined his optics, feeling mortified, his vents coming more heavily from the stress than from any form of desire. It seemed to take forever, two digits, three, then the Medic began to ease the stretcher inside of him. The spike stretched him painfully wide. Wider than he had been stretched before. Fully inside, it brushed against the ceiling nodes and locked in place. Bluestreak’s valve rippled around it, trying to push the intruder out, but the magnilocks held firm, leaving Bluestreak uncomfortably full, charge rising despite himself.  
  
“Perfect,” the medic beamed, patting the end of the stretcher, leaving Bluestreak gasping, his vents coming up sharp.  
  
Bluestreak was still in a haze as the medic puttered around, and came back with a box. He pulled out a device that would have made Bluestreak cringe had be been able to. The medic rolled him over onto his front, and pulled away the protective cover over the medical port as the base of his neck. Bluestreak cried out as the control device was jacked into his neck, needles sinking into his protoform, and opening into anchors to keep it in place. It burned as it released the virus with the slave coding. The virus burned through his system, leaving him screaming until the medic sent the command to offline his vocalizer.  
  
He felt numb as the medic rolled him back over, fitting a collar around his neck as if he was someone’s pet cybercat.  
  
“I have to say, I’m rather jealous of Emirate Shockwave. You are quite a prize.”  
  
Bluestreak offlined his optics, wishing he could just disappear at that moment.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

  
Prowl curled up on the berth, trying to calm himself.  His normally smooth EM field was ragged. The two minibots did not shy away from him, if anything they moved closer, fitting themselves snug against his tightly compressed armour.    
  
He could almost relax against them, let their fields soothe him, and ebb some of the rage away.  
  
“They will find him,” Thundercracker murmured, nuzzling into Prowl’s neck. “I’ve never seen Barricade give up and he won’t in this.”  
  
Prowl shuddered at the words, he wanted to believe, but in truth he was scared. For once it was out of his hands, which was not something the mech was used to.  
  
“It will all work out.” Jazz purred from the otherside, crawling up Prowl’s plating until he pressed their lips together. The black and white mech melted against him, all heated metal and willing lips. He warmed up Prowl’s cooler armor, leaving the vampire sighing, and finally relaxing. The tension smoothed from his fields as he let them take care of him.    
  
“Barricade will get him back before you know it,” Jazz hummed.  
  
“I shouldn't have waited to turn him,” Prowl said mournfully. “Now I may never get the chance. He could be lost to me.”  
  
“Don’t talk like that, love,” Thundercracker chided nuzzling Prowl’s neck cording. “You will get him back safe. I know you will.”

 

OoOoOoOoOo

  
Barricade’s first stop had been the medbay. As predicted Knock Out had not been amused, but he had set him right all the same. Still he had not been gentle, and Barricade wanted nothing more than a warm berth to curl up in by the time he made it back to his rooms. Meister was waiting for him, as expected, and looking fretful.  
  
“Knock Out comm’ed me. He said you had been injured.” The silver mech pulled him close, digits gliding across Barricades plating as if he was searching for the injuries. “What happened,” Meister said, distress clear in his voice.  
  
“It’s fine. Prowl...did not like the news I had for him. It happens. I am well, he did not permanently damage anything.”  
  
Meister’s optics widened at such news. All he could think of for a moment was how his brother was with that violent creature.  
  
It was easy enough for Barricade to read Meister’s processor. “He would never hurt them,” the black Praxian said, pulling Meister to him. He nuzzled into the silver neck cording, nipping, and finally sinking his fangs in.  
  
Meister clung, offlining his optics against the ecstasy. He could see how some would become addicted to this. He still clung to Barricade weakly as he finally pulled away, and pulled Meister towards the berth.  
  
Barricade pushed him down on his front, digits already brushing across his dorsal plating, then down across his interface panel. It snapped open of the first touch leaving Meister panting, his hands grasping at the mesh underneath him.  
  
Barricade laughed at his eagerness, and was soon pushing into the wet, hot passage. Barricade set a brutal pace, burning off the frustration that had been hovering through his system for a good joor. He pulled their bodies flush, sinking his fangs into the malleable metal of Meister’s shoulder, not breaking rhythm. Meister’s spinal strut bowed, crying out, his valve clamping down on the spike, milking it of every last drop of transfluid until the both finally toppled into a tangle of limbs on the berth. Barricade’s mouth never left Meister’s shoulder, drinking deeply until the hunger was sated.  
  
Meister whimpered against him, weak. His movement’s sluggish until Barricade crossed the room bringing back a cube of energon. He pressed it against Meister’s lips, and did not seem satisfied until the mech had downed three such cubes.  
  
Barricade finally crawled back onto the berth, pulling Meister into his arms. “I don’t know what I ever did without you,” he murmured, smiling against Meister’s plating.  
  
Meister’s movements were still sluggish, and soon Barricade lost his smile, becoming more concerned at the coolness of the plating against his own. “Sweetspark?” Barricade asked, looking down at Meister’s dimmed optics.  
  
“Mmmm...tired,” Meister murmured, hiding his faceplates against Barricade’s plating. If anything it alarmed the Praxian more.  
  
“No, stay awake,” he finally scooped the slighter mech and headed towards the hallway, heedless of the state their plating was in. “Stay awake,” he repeated more firmly, afraid that the mech in his arms was going to slip into stasis lock.  
  
He burst into the medical bay, “Get over here, Knock Out, I need help.”  
  
“What now?” The red mech asked in exasperation, which turned into alarm as he took in the state Meister was in. “Get him on the table, I’ll start a drip.”  
  
Meister’s optics flickered, dimming further as Barricade placed him on the medical berth and Knockout finally got a drip set up, hooking it into one of the silver bot’s main lines.  
  
Knock Out glared at Barricade over the prone bots body. “Really, what were you thinking?”  
  
“I didn’t think I had taken than much.”    
  
“You can’t continuously take energon from one donor. You know better than that. It isn’t as if you are a new fledgeling,” the medic glared.  
  
“Knock Out I---”  
  
“I don’t want to hear your excuses. You are either going to have to stop feeling off of him, or turn him already.”  
“I---” he looked down at Meister’s offlined face. He looked peaceful in recharge. “I should give it some thought, I suppose.”  
  
“You think?” Knock Out snorted.  
  
“I will talk to him about it.” He was not even sure if it was what Meister wanted. He worried sometimes that the mech did not understand that he could say no. Barricade shifted from side to side for a moment, looking nervous, and far, far younger than his year. “I’m just worried. I’m not sure if he understands...”  
  
“I will explain the process if that is what is worrying you,” Knock Out rolled his optics, “He is a bright mech from what I have observed.”  
  
“No, that isn’t what I mean. He latched onto me the minute I took him...away from that place. Scrap. I don’t want to have him just escape slavery to---to just fall into a different form of it.”  
  
“I can’t see how that would happen. Clearly you care for him.    
  
Barricade nodded, taking Meister’s slack hand. “I do. So much.”

 

OoOoOoOoOo

  
Bluestreak woke up back in the cell. He felt sluggish, his limbs heavy. The drug the medic had given him still laid heavily over his processor, making it hard for him to even sit up. He hurt as he slowly forced himself to sit up. Chains rattled as him moved, making him realize that the heaviness was not only the drugs, but heavy chains, locked to his plating by a loop that the medic must have welded on while he had been offline. The thought sent a shiver of fear though the Praxian as he wondered what else the medic had done while he had been unaware. He shifted gingerly, wincing at how the stretcher moved against his insides. It was far from a comfortable feeling, more painful than arousing.  
  
He looked about the smooth walls of the cell, there was nothing that was not attached, nothing he could use as a weapon, no vent he could pry away to sneak out. It was dis-sparkening to say the least. There was a vent, but it was high about Bluestreak’s head, and far, far too small for him to fit through. He stared up at it, cycling his optics as he saw a glint of red.  
  
His vents caught for a moment. “Ravage?”  
  
The red optics moved closer to the vent. “It’s me. Stay tight, Soundwave is sending mech’s in to get you.”  
  
Bluestreak hugged himself. “Hurry, please hurry. They want to take me to Tarn. I don’t want to go to Tarn. It’s horrible. I know it’s horrible. And Shockwave. He bought me. I can’t go with him. He’s---please tell them to hurry. I don’t want to live in old one optics berth.”  
  
“Blue. Calm down.”  
  
“How can I---” Bluestreak hopped up, speaking far too loudly for the spies comfort.  
  
“Stop it. You are going to get the guards attention,” Ravage hissed, barely above a whisper.  
  
As if on cue there was a banging on the door, it swung open, the big mech from earlier came striding in with a large cube in his hand.     
  
Bluestreak scuttled back from the guard, pressing himself into a corner.  
  
The guard poured the energon into a dish that was bolted down to the floor, one that Bluestreak had not noticed.  
  
“You can’t expect me to drink out of that. I’m not a...a pet.”  
  
The large mech laughed, “I think that is the least of your worries, little mech. What do you think Shockwave is going to do with you? I’ve seen bots like you come through here before. He’s going to frag you into the berth until he’s tired of you, and then dispose of you like so much trash.” The mech leered, “Maybe he will sell you to a brothel, maybe he will just use you in his experiments. Take you apart bit by bit, and drain you dry.”  
  
Bluestreak whimpered, pushing himself as far away from the bot as he could get.  
  
“Maybe he will even let his experiments have their fun with you. Wouldn’t that be fun? I’ve heard they will tear live bots apart.”  
  
Bluestreak put his hands over his audials, “Shut up, shut up. I don’t want to hear this.”  
  
The guard laughed loudly, crossing the room to the door. “Sweet dreams, little bot. I’m sure Shockwave’s bot will be around soon to get you.”  
  
The door slammed shut, leaving Bluestreak shaking. He hugged himself tightly, and craned his head looking at the now empty vent.  
  
He curled up into a tight ball, wrapping his arms around himself tightly, and imagined it was Prowl holding him. He always felt safe with Prowl.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

Ravage raced through the city, weaving through dark alleyways until he reached the nearest entrance to the underground citadel. Hadeen nipping at his feet as he finally descended into the depths. He despaired, knowing they would likely move Bluestreak during the daycycle. The one time that Prowl would not be able to leave their underground home to retrieve him.  
  
He did not wait for permission as he burst into Prowl’s quarters, and almost scuttled right back out as he took in the bodies entangled on the berth.  
  
The carrying minibot gave him a soured look, covering himself up with a mesh. “What do you think---”  
  
“I found him.” Ravage burst out, cutting the minibot off before he could even start his tirade.  
  
“Bluestreak?” Prowl asked, his doorwings perking up into a high Vee. “Where?”  
  
“Close. In the merchant district. The slavers bought one of the old houses there. He’s down in the basement, in a little cell. I’m afraid they might move him before we get there though. He---I listened to the guards talking. Shockwave purchased him. From what I gathered he wanted Bluestreak specifically.”  
  
The Praxian vampire nodded, his optics glowing bright, ruby red. “I see. He is...an old enemy.” Prowl’s wings fluttered, the only sign of his agitation, otherwise he radiated anger. “We will go to Tarn, if we must.”  
  
“I fear that may be our only option. They detected me before I could slip out. I am sure we won’t have the opportunity to get him before they move him, I’m sorry, my lord.”  
  
“At least you found him. That is more than anyone else,” Prowl said gravely.  
  
Ravage ducked his head, it didn’t feel like enough to him. “They have done things to him, my lord. You will not be happy, I fear. We may not get the same Bluestreak back.”  
  
Prowl nodded, hugging the minis to him, “I---we will do whatever we need to fix him. Go to Soundwave, have him prepare an invading force. Even if we cannot recover Bluestreak here we will take the slavers down before we make a move on Tarn.”  
  
Ravage bowed low, “As you wish, my lord.” He was running out the door before Prowl could cycle his optics. He ran through the tunnels straight to Soundwave. He could have found the host mech even had he been blinded.  
  
“Soundwave.” He nodded, although there never needed to be any words between them. The telepath knew his intent and that of their lords as soon as the cat was close enough for the telepath to read him.  
  
“Ravage: assist preparation.”  
The cat barked a laugh. “Of course, sir.”  

 

OoOoOoOoOo

  
  
It was only a joor later that the same guard came back, bearing chains. The guard grabbed his wrist, attaching a chain to the link that had been welded there, threaded it through a loop in his collar before attaching it to the other hand. Bluestreak was not exactly creative, but after the guard pinned him it was impossible to avoid. He finally attached a leash to the loop in the collar before releasing Bluestreaks legs from the chains that had bound him.  
  
Bluestreak whined, pulling at the chain it was clear it was not coming free without taking protoform with it, and the chain on his arms was far too small to let him extend his arms fully. It was uncomfortable at best. The guard did not give him even a moment to adjust, instead he dragged him out the door and away. “Ships waiting, I don’t have time for your dithering,” he snarked, pushing Bluestreak along.  The smaller bot had to jog to keep up, otherwise he would have just been dragged along.  
  
The medic from before slipped into the hallway, eying Bluestreak, “Hold him still, might as well minimize his struggling before he reaches his destination. We can’t deliver damaged goods.” He plunged a syringe into the main line Bluestreak’s neck before he could even jerk away. The drug left him wobbly on his peds. He would have fell to the floor like a sack of rocks had the big mech not caught him, scooping him up before he continued on his way.  
  
Bluestreak lulled against him, far too weak to move, and far too lucid not to whimper when he felt the guard pawing at him, feeling him up. He felt far too bare and exposed.  
  
“If we hadn’t already sold you, I swear I’d frag you into the floor,” the mech leered down at him, setting on the bared interface panel his grin grew lascivious. “I bet you’d like it, you little slut. Heard how you carry on with that monster you were with. Such a little whore. You enjoy it, don’t you?”  
  
Bluestreak offlined his optics, “Please, stop.”  
  
The mech laughed, digit’s dipping into Bluestreak’s seams. He laughed harder at the little protesting whimper that left Bluestreak’s vocalizer.  
  
The world dimmed around the edges as he was carried onto the ship, and finally the world went black. It was a relief when it did.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

  
Bluestreak woke to something stroking across his plating. He onlined his optics, and offlined them nearly at once. Shockwave sat on the edge of the berth he had been placed on, looming over him. He had only seen the mech once before, during a video feed. Even through that medium his energon had run cold. Prowl had never been impressed with the mech, routinely criticizing the bots methods of running his city-state. Bluestreak knew that it was a long standing hatred. A personal one, but he had not had the foresight to gain more information on why. It had never seemed to matter until now.  
  
The hand stroked down his body, finally ringing a whimper from Bluestreak.  
  
The mech made a pleased sound, his single red optic focused intently on Bluestreak. His claws settled over the magnalock on the stretcher, making another pleased noise as the lock released on his command.  
  
Bluestreak whined, pulling at his arms only to discover chains running from the loop to the poles at the edge of the berth.  He tried to wiggle away, but Shockwave held him fast. He gripped the spacer, easing it in and out, building up charge until Bluestreak was out of his processor, lifting his hips to meet each thrust.  
  
He finally pulled it out, setting it to the side as he moved between the Paxian’s spread legs. Bluestreak only had the warning of the tell-tell snick of an interface panel opening before the bot was on him, spreading him far wider than the spreader. Bluestreak screamed, trying to get away from the pain, it felt like he was being split apart until finally Shockwave was completely inside of him. He stayed that way, purring at the way Bluestreak’s valve spasmed around him, clamping down hard.  
  
It seemed an eternity before he finally started to move. If anything it made it worse, rubbing against over sensitive nodes with each pass until Bluestreak was pushed over the edge, once, twice. The bot continued to use him through each overload, mindless how the pleasure quickly turned to pain, or perhaps because of it. Finally he felt the rush of transfluid into his valve. It was, a relief. For a moment Bluestreak hoped that Shockwave would heave him alone.  
  
Instead the mech curled against him, venting softly. Purring. Something brushed his plating. He thought it his imagination, but it came again, moving up his chassis. He looked up and nearly scream as he watched the tentacles unfurl from Shockwave’s chassis. They brushed against Bluestreak’s plating, lingering over seamed until one hovered over his neck cording, pushing against it before latching on like a technoleach.  
  
Bluestreak cried out. It was nothing like being bitten by Prowl. There was no pleasure in this, even less so when Shockwave moved between his legs again, pressing back inside the already slick valve. Bluestreak was limp beneath him, but it didn’t seem to matter to Shockwave as he pounded into the tight passage. His claws dented Bluestreak’s hips as he shouted his release, collapsing on top of the small bot. He did not bother to pull out, but stayed pressed inside even after the last push of transfluid over-flowed Bluestreak’s gestation tank, leaving the Praxian feeling uncomfortably full. Eventually the tentacles disengaged, leaving Bluestreak weak with energon loss.  
  
He laid there, pinned, for joors before finally drifting off into a restless recharge. His recharge was filled with dreams of Prowl, holding him tightly, easing his fears. Somehow that made waking that much worse.  
  
Shockwave was already online and pawing at his sparkplates. He hit the manual release, the plates spiraled open despite Bluestreak’s gasp of fear. He had never shared his spark with anyone but Prowl, and thrashed against Shockwave until the mech finally pinned his hands above his head and pressed their sparks together. The coronas pressed together, electricity crackling between them until the finally entwined, leaving Bluestreak screaming in agony.  
  
Shockwave plunged through his systems taking, soaking up Bluestreak’s experiences, his memories. Barrelling through the merge until Bluestreak was limp against him, crying even as the charge built and overload finally hit them both.  
  
Bluestreak was knocked offline, his frame limp beneath the mech’s before Shockwave finally rose, leaving him sprawled across the berth.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

  
  
“Leave none of them living.” Prowl growled, as they swept through the compound the Fenrir had been hiding in, the monsters that had taken Bluestreak from them. They left the walls splattered with the mech’s blood. Pink energon, dripped down onto the floor to pool in puddles.  
  
Barricade growled, “Scrap, Prowl, we need at least one for questioning.”  
  
The only answer in reply was a growl, leaving Barricade seething until he finally cornered one mech he could use to get the answers that they needed. They were not the answers that he wanted. Bluestreak had been delivered to Shockwave. He had hoped it was otherwise. He had enough encounters with the Lamia to fear for Bluestreak’s safety. Lamia were rare enough, halflings like the dhampirs they fed on mech-blood much like their progenitors.  
  
They were dangerous, as much as any vampire was, and Shockwave was by far the worse.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

  
  
Bluestreak glared resentfully at the one opticed mech, and then down to the dish on the floor. “I am not going to fuel from a dish like some cybercat,” he hissed.  
“You will, or you will not fuel at all,” Shockwave looked down at his new pet, single optic narrowing. He hooked the chain to to the hook anchored to his desk, keeping Bluestreak close as he worked. “Learn to behave mech or I will throw you to the energon zombies. I am sure they would have a fun time with you,” he said blandly, amused with the way Bluestreak cringed away.  “Drink.”  
  
Bluestreak looked up, whimpered, head dipping down as he finally lapped at the energon in the bowl. Shockwave’s servo fell heavily on his aft, petting him, and finally tapping on the spreader, leaving Bluestreak whimpering as the staccato rhythm reverberated through his chassis.  
  
The Praxian offlined his optics, concentrating on lapping up the energon before him. His tanks were far from fully, and he knew after the mech had fed off of him the night cycle before that all of his reserves were depleted.    
  
Shockwave went back to work, doing whatever it was that he did, and Bluestreak thanked any gods that may be listening when the mech’s attention left him. He could deal with the humiliation. He had to. He had to stay functioning until Prowl came for him. He could not imagine that he would not.  
  
He lapped up the last bit, letting himself roll over, hugging himself tightly. He was almost drifting off into recharge when Shockwave stood, pulling impatiently on the chain, nearly dragging Bluestreak as he strode out of the room.     
  
They moved through the laboratory, holding cells and scaffolding lining the walls. Bluestreak stuck close to Shockwave lest he be grabbed. Most of the creatures, for he could not call them mechs any longer, scared Bluestreak.  
  
Shockwave laughed, amused by the little mech’s behavior and obvious fear. They finally stopped in front of the long glass wall, at one end of the laboratory. The zombie mech’s enclosure. Shockwave sat, lounging in one of the chairs in front of the enclosure, his claws tapping the arm. “You know pet, if I get bored with you you shall go in there. It would behoove you to keep me entertained.”  
  
Bluestreak’s optics alighted on the the glass, and then shifted back to Shockwave. He vented hard, crawling over to the mech. His hands were shaking as he reached for Shockwave. “I’ll be good, master, I promise,” his voice quaked, going staticy as he nuzzled Shockwave’s interface plate. he flinched as it snapped open, the spike springing into his hand.    
  
“I’m sure you will, pet,” Shockwave purred as Bluestreak took the spike into his mouth, flicking his glossa across the ridged underside.    
  
He still flinched when Shockwave’s tentacles unfurled, latching on to energon lines. It hurt. A steady burn than only made him more focused on sucking on the spike before him.  
  
He bobbed his head, swallowing the spike down his intake until hips lips brushed the casing. Humming, he offlined his optics, pretending it was Prowl. He could almost believe the illusion until Shockwave’s claws closed around his helm and the bot snapped his hips up, fragging his mouth until hot spurts of transfluid was shooting down his intake. He swallowed it down, offlining his optics in humiliation.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

  
Prowl paced the wardroom like a caged cybercat. It was taking far too long to get everything together. He could not bear to even think of what that monster was doing to his Blue. Granted, he had other things on his processor as well. Jazz was in surgery even now. The carrying bot had not taken the stress well. He had fretted and worried when his friend was taken. Knock Out had called in a specialist to deal with the matter. Prowl was not entirely sure he trusted First Aid, but Knock Out seemed to have faith that he would bring both carrier and sparkling through the early extraction safely.  
  
Thundercracker was equally beside himself with worry. He sidled up to Prowl, taking the bots hand in his own, a tiny whimper leaving his lips.  
  
“You need to stop pacing. You are going to wear a hole through the floor. It is not as if I am entrusting you bot to a stranger. First Aid is family,” Knock Out snipped, leaning against the wall. “Barricade’s line, anyway. He’s one of Streetwise’s brothers. Thought you might take an interest in him. You know I really wouldn’t mind another medic around,” the red bot said, looking down at his claws in a coy manner.  
  
“Time and place,” Prowl growled.  
  
“Calm down.”  
  
Prowl’s optics narrowed, the medic was far too mouthy, always had been. He needed to be put in his place, but Prowl knew that would keep, another time. “You can’t expect me---”  
  
The door burst opening stopping Prowl from saying anything further. He watched the small mech, curious as he came striding in. “You must be Prowl. Jazz is waiting for you. The surgery was a success, but it would be best if he stays on berth rest until I clear him. His systems were very taxed. Not surprising with all the modifications made to his frame. I’m honestly surprised he was able to carry at all.” The bot continued to chatter as he lead the waiting mechs’ back to see the resting minibot.  
  
Jazz looked up as they came in, exhaustion in his field and face. He held a mesh wrapped bundle close to him, the little mech suckling on a feeding line that came from the tip of Jazz’s index finger.  
  
The bitlet’s optics were bright blue, and surprisingly alert. The silver protoform already showing hints of his future coloration, hints of black and blue dotting his frame.  
  
Jazz smiled, “Wondered when you might drop in and see us.”  
  
Thundercracker climbed up, settling in against Jazz. His optics fixed on the little bitling. “He’s perfect.”  
  
“Better be, for all of the trouble he’s given me,” Jazz said with a ready grin to soften the words.  
  
“Have you thought of a name yet?” Prowl asked, sitting on the edge of the berth, his mind far away from his troubles.  
  
“Ricochet,” Jazz said, lips quirking up into a grin. “He is going to be a little whirlwind of trouble, I can see it now.”  
  
Prowl laughed, “Just like his carrier.”  
  
Jazz’s lips quirked up. “Exactly.”  
  
“He should probably rest now,” First Aid spoke up, already ready to shoo them away from the pair.  
  
“I do,” Jazz agreed meeting Prowl’s gaze. “Bring Blue back for me, okay.”  
  
“You know we will,” Prowl murmured, leaning in he pressed his lips to Jazz’s cheek. “I promise.”

 

OoOoOoOoOo

  
  
They left soon after, and First Aid took Ricochet, placing the tiny mechlet into an incubation pod to keep him warm while his carrier slept. Thundercracker curled against Jazz’s side, a pleasantly warm spot. Jazz drowsed, already half in recharge. “I love him so much already, I can’t---I can’t understand how that they could have given us up.”  
  
“I’ve thought about it a lot myself, sweetspark. I honestly do not know. I can’t fathom it.” He thought about his reunion with his brothers, how they clung to him. They still did really, barely letting him out of their sight at times.  He curled closer, rubbing a hand across Jazz’s sparkplates. “I don’t understand any of it these days.”  
  
Jazz smiled tiredly, optics drifting shut, “I love you too,” he murmured letting himself fall into recharge at last.  
  
He plunged almost immediately into a flux...  
 _Jazz clung to the silver mech beside him, his small frame taunt with fear as the new mechs came into his carrier and creators home. He did not understand what the big bots were discussing, or why Meister clung to him so tightly._  
  
 _The strangers drew close, easily pulling him away from his brother despite Meister’s cries which soon turned to enraged screams as he lunged at the mech holding Jazz, beating on him with his tiny fists._  
  
 _The small black and white mechling quivered, frozen under the red optics of his captor. He almost missed it when a different bot took Meister, and left with him before the red-eyed mech left with Jazz in hand._  
  
Jazz woke with a startled cry, his processor still whirling from scenes from his past. He only came to himself as Thundercracker shook him gently.  
  
“It was only a dream, sweetling,” he whispered against Jazz’s helm, holding the slight bot close until the shaking ended. “It’s hard, I know. I remember when I was taken away from my brother’s too.” Jazz knew as much. He knew what Thundercracker had gone through, experienced it himself when they had bonded. The merge had been deep. So deep Jazz had not known where he ended and Thundercracker began for a time.  
  
He had no trouble recalling a similar scene with the fliers. They had not been much older when Thundercracker had been taken away by the mech that Jazz now knew had been Clench. The same one that had taken him away from Meister and sold his brother into prostitution. He clung to Thundercracker, unable to stop the recall of Starscream and Skywarp’s crying faces. How their optics had scrunched up tears flowing as they were both lead away by an old mech, their little hands held tightly in his massive servos as he dragged them away.  
  
It was hard to forget even though they had replaced it with much happier memories. He forced himself to vent, recalling the look on Thundercracker’s face when Barricade had brought his brother’s in, how tightly they had clung together, and cried long enough that Jazz had thought they would all drown with their tears.  
  
“It’s okay, sweetspark.” Thundercracker murmured against his audial. “We are all safe.”  
  
“Bluestreak isn’t,” he choked out, and whimpered against Thundercracker’s plating. It brought back far too many bad memories.  
  
“It will soon be remedied.” Thundercracker murmured. “Prowl promised.”

 

OoOoOoOoOo

  
Bluestreak’s helm pressed into the mesh. There was very little give in the way Shockwave had bound him, both wrists and ankles locked to the spreader bar, leaving his aft in the air. It was uncomfortable at best the way his body was folded over. Humiliating at worst with his aft in the air. Shockwave left him like that for a joor, letting his anxiety get the best of him even as the charge rose, energy crackling through his system as the vibrator buzzed seemingly at random in his valve. He suspected that the frameshifter was controlling it via remote as he worked. Charge would hum through his system, climbing, but never quite high enough to push him into overload.  
  
Bluestreak drifted in a haze. His spark had felt odd for cycles. A weird fluttering sensation that he had no name for, and just as suddenly with was gone. He still felt odd. Nauseated at times as though he was going to purge his tank. He never made the connection until he felt a distinct kick to his tank. A feeling Jazz had described often enough. When it finally sank in a whole knew horror filled Bluestreak. He tried to calm himself, the last thing he wanted to do was alert Shockwave to his condition. He had heard enough stories from Prowl to never want the mech to get ahold of a sparkling, and a carrying mech even less so.  
  
He pushed such thoughts out of his head as he hear heavy pedsteps approaching. He craned his neck, watching Shockwave approach. Dread crawled up his spinal strut.  
  
Shockwave mech-handled him to the edge of the berth, pulling out the vibrator only to replace it with his spike. Bluestreak’s hands clenched against the pain, his valve clamping down on the intruder.  
  
Shockwave laughed behind him, “Such a little whore. I can understand why Prowl wanted you so badly. Always eager for it.”  
  
Bluestreak said nothing. He had gotten good at tuning out Shockwave’s taunts. The mech wanted him to become upset. If anything he wanted to curl in on himself and protect the life inside of him.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

  
  
It took far longer for Ravage to return with the specs on Shockwave’s citadel than Prowl had hoped that it would. He was scared for Bluestreak, but the cat assured him that the mech was functioning, and in surprisingly good health given the situation. They planned the raid carefully. Intent on getting in and out as quickly as possible. Prowl was more concerned with getting Bluestreak back safely than anything. Still a part of him wanted to hunt down Shockwave, rip out his still whirling spark, and crush it in his bare hands. He wanted to make the mech pay for crossing him, and he would eventually. If not now then later.    
  
“We’re ready,” Barricade called, and was at his side in an instant. “Are you sure you want to go with us?”  
  
“It would be better than waiting here, brother.” Prowl said, pulling his younger brother to him, and holding him tightly for an instant before stepping away.  
  
“Let’s go then,” Barricade said. “The transport is ready.”

 

OoOoOoOoOo

  
Shockwave circled Bluestreak, staring hard at the mech who was bound before him, hanging from his wrists limply. He had long since tired himself out struggling.  
  
“I don’t know why you thought you could hide it,” The mech laughed, his tentacles caressing Bluestreak’s plating. There was a hunger in his voice that left Bluestreak whimpering. He would have flinched away had he not been bound.  
  
He screamed when Shockwave tore into his too-thin armour, intent on relieving Bluestreak of the sparkling his system was nurturing. His screams rose in volume as Shockwave tore into his gestation tank, ripping away the front wall of the tank, fluid gushing out as he ripped the sparkling away. It’s mental shriek reverberated through Bluestreaks processor as the bond snapped.  
  
The monster before him drained the life fluids of the sparkling, crushing it’s soft armour. It was over in a matter of seconds leaving Bluestreak hanging limp in his bonds and hemorrhaging mech-blood. He felt his life ebbing away, spark flickering as an explosion sounded through the compound, and finally it all faded into darkness.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

  
  
Knock Out was splattered from energon, and for once he didn’t seem worried about his paint job. The mech on the slab was a mess. Worse than a mess. It had taken six joors of work for them to stabilize him. First Aid looked equally exhausted as he leaned against the far wall. They had been unable to salvage Bluestreak’s gestation tank, it had been shredded. Most of his insides had been shredded to the point that Knock Out had not even been sure what had kept the mech’s spark from flickering out.  
  
They had their moment. He had guttered too many times for Knock Out to even count, but somehow they had pulled him through it. Knock Out was not sure it was the kind thing to do. He was far from sure that Bluestreak was going to come out of the stasis, or if he was sane enough to function. It was a worry, but not one that Prowl would hear.  
  
The bot was there, waiting for them to wake Bluestreak. It was not something that Knock Out was looking forward to. The vampire waited patiently all the same, and when they were ready he was beside Bluestreak’s berth. The boot cycle started with a hum, and finally Bluestreak’s optics onlined. He looked about in confusion, his optics flickering between faceplates. “I’m dreaming again,” he croaked, his voice more static than sound.  
  
“I promise you, you are not,” Prowl said gravely, not entirely surprised when the smaller bot flung himself at Prowl, latching on and clinging.  
  
“You came. I knew you would,” his vents grew shallow and fast, a whimper escaping his vocalizer. “He killed it. I couldn’t---I couldn't save it. He ripped it from me. And I felt it d-die,” his voice hiccuped, breaking into static as the first sob was wrenched from his frame.  
  
Prowl held him until he was too tired to cry any longer and rested limply in Prowl’s arms, still clinging with what strength he had left.  
  
Prowl ran a hand down Bluestreak’s back, a soothing motion that pushed him closer and closer to a natural recharge. Bluestreak drifted, feeling safer than he had in far too long.  
  
“Would it be okay to take him back to my rooms?” Prowl asked, already lifting the much slighter mech in his arms.  
  
“Safe enough, he still needs to be on a drip, but we can set that up in your rooms, I suppose,” Knockout shrugged.  
  
“Then do it,” Prowl said, already heading for the door, Bluestreak in his arms. He didn’t wait to see if the medic followed.  
  
He held Bluestreak close. It was a relief to have the mech in his arms again. It had been a near thing. They had to tear him away from Shockwave’s dead frame. He had tore into the mech, taking him apart in a fit of rage when he had seen when had become of Bluestreak. The mech had not had a chance to fight back, but he had screamed. Prowl wanted to remember that sound.  
  
When he reached his room, he tucked Bluestreak in the berth, tucking the cooling meshes around him, and finally curled against the mech. His mech.

 

OoOoOoOoOo

  
Prowl watched his newest fledgling feed. Bluestreak had recovered far faster than Knock Out had expected. It had still been slow going, a vorn had passed before Prowl had thought he was healed well enough to turn him. The change seemed to sit well with the mech.  
  
He had been hard pressed to come to term with many things, but luckily he had a good support system. Thundercracker, or Jazz was always with him, when Prowl could not be, and surprisingly Bluestreak had taken to Ricochet immediately.  
  
Prowl had feared, at first, that Bluestreak would resent Jazz’s sparkling. Even that he might lash out at it. That fear had been allayed quickly.  
  
Ricochet seemed to adore Bluestreak equally as much. At times the little, grey Praxian was the only one that could calm the bitlet. He was a fussy thing, screaming for hours if Jazz or Thundercracker would set him in his crib.  
  
He would not settle for Prowl, or any of the pair’s brothers, which caused no end of grief for both Thundercracker and Jazz. But the minute Bluestreak would pick him up he would quite right down and fall asleep.  
  
Prowl wished he could have given Bluestreak one of his own, but even he knew some things were unmendable.


End file.
